


The Inn

by Dhdhhdgsgs



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (Past) Self Harm, Activism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Civil Rights Movement, Depression, Gay Male Character, Gay Rights, Gen, Homosexuality, Lesbian Character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Queer History, Queer Themes, Recreational Drug Use, Stonwall Riots, The Stonewall Inn, Transgender Female Character, Underage Drinking, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhdhhdgsgs/pseuds/Dhdhhdgsgs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is changing and everybody knows it.  It's thick in the air like an upcoming storm; the clouds heaviest over New York City.  And who’s there to get caught in the rain other than Jack Bell and Alex Hamilton? Their story begins in May of 1968, a college party, a diner in Manhattan, and parked outside an apartment complex in East Harlem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inn

**Author's Note:**

> Just for clarification-  
> \--The underage prostitute is 17, and is doing it by choice... Of course it's still wrong and please be cautious if that could be upsetting. Same with the sex, which will come in later chapters...it's between a 17 yr old and 22 yr old and completely consensual, but still.  
> \--ALSO!! some names and ethnicity headcanons were borrowed from  
> iluzjonista's To Scale A Blue Sky which is absolutely incredible and should be read by literally EVERYONE  
> \--I've had this AU in my head for a while now and I'm really excited to finally publish this... Thanks for reading :33

_Jack Bell, May, 1968_

Martha Manning wrapped her fingers around Jack’s bicep. Her nails were filed into points and painted red, her shoulder pressed flush to Jack’s arm. Her profile was hidden by a curtain of sleek brown hair, cut neatly at her jaw. She smoothed a strand behind her ear, her face then visible. Long eyelashes were thick with clumpy mascara and lips painted with a pale shade of nude lipstick.

The room was abuzz with music and chatter, people gathered together and dancing drunkenly. Jack took a drink of his beer. Martha tightened her grip on his arm and twisted around to face him. “Do you want to dance?”

Martha was a real nice girl, the kind who knew how to have a good time but could you could still take home to your parents. She was Jack’s closest friend from school, and itching for rebellion. Jack figured that’s why they were even friends in the first place. To a girl like her, there wasn’t anything more rebellious than doing the hankie pankie with a colored boy. So, she liked to take him to parties and get him drunk in hopes of him ducking into somebody’s bedroom with her. It had never happened and it never would, but Jack still went. She was fun.

“Sure thing,” He smiled down at her.

She set down her empty cup and trailed her fingers down his arm, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the cluster of people.

Jack didn’t pay attention to the forced sway of her hips; he was too busy making eye contact with a boy on the opposite side of the room. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed clubmaster eyeglasses and had locs brushing his collarbones.

“I just adore this song!” Martha interrupted his thoughts. Jack turned back to her, and found her grinning up at him. She was a good half a foot shorter than him, and had to crane her neck to make eye contact.

He couldn’t help smile in return, taking her by the hand and twirling her in circles. Her dress fanned out around her, free arm held out to keep balanced. She laughed wildly, coming to a stop and falling against Jack’s chest. She jumped back and continued dancing, her hair draped in her eyes and her lips pulled into a seemingly never-ending grin.

They danced sillily, laughing and stumbling like little kids, until the song came to it’s end and was replaced by something much slower. Jack looked around and saw girls with their arms around boys’ necks, bodies close and faces closer. He turned back to Martha.

“Um, wanna take a break and get a drink--or something?” He prompted.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, “Just one more song.” She tilted her head to the side, “Don’t you wanna dance with me, Jack?” Her eyes were trained on his, big and round like saucers.

Jack pursed his lips and forced himself to smile down at her, “Yeah, doll, ‘course.” He hesitantly rested his hands along her waist.

Martha grinned until dimples appeared in her cheeks, teeth straight and pearly except one that seemed to have grown in crookedly. A strand of hair fell in her face, and she shook her head to get it out of her eyes. Jack reached up to tuck it behind her ear for her, mindlessly.

“Thanks,” She said, breathily. She leaned onto her tiptoes, mouth angled towards his, alcohol-scented breath fanning against his lips; her fingers tangled into the curls at the nape of his neck. Jack took a breath, eyebrows furrowed and hands lingering awkwardly at her waist.

“M-Martha, you’re drunk.”

“So?” She sighed, “I really like you, Jack. I don’t even care that you’re colored.”

Jack snorted and pulled away.

“What?” She furrowed her eyebrows and dropped from her tiptoes. “It’s true.”  

Jack had nothing to say in return.

“Hey,” Interrupted a new voice, suddenly.

Martha lowered her arms. It was the boy from earlier, the one with clubmaster eyeglasses. He was cuter up close, with puppy-dog eyes and thin limbs, nothing but collarbones peeking over his t-shirt and a barely-there accent. “This your girl?” He nodded in Martha’s direction.

  
“We’re friends,” Jack clarified. Martha looked away pointedly.

“Good. So, I can ask her to dance?” The boy lifted his eyebrows and grinned, shifting his gaze to her.

“Maybe a drink,” She suggested. The boy offered his arm with a smile.  She took it and shook back the hair from her face, turning around and peering at Jack from over her shoulder. Her eyes were hazel and her mascara was smudged.

Jack ignored the swell of guilt rising in his stomach; it wasn’t his fault he didn’t want to sleep with her just because she “didn’t even care that he was colored.” Even if he wasn’t queer, he’d never go for a girl who said something like _that_. Jack dated plenty of white girls in high school to please his father. But now? He was done.

He was already a disgrace, anyways, just being the object of Henry Laurens’ _unspeakable_ affair with his colored maid. Plus, he was in art school instead of being pre-med or pre-law or whatever else was considered respectable by the good citizens of white Charleston.

Martha and the boy re-emerged from the kitchen, both with cups in hand. They stood together closely and his hand lingered on her back, both of them smiling. Jack straightened himself and ran his fingertips over his lips as they approached.

“I was just askin’ Martha here if she wanted to get some food. Wanna come?” The boy asked.

“Yeah, sure. Did you drive here?”

“I rode my bike.” He said, “Martha says you got a truck, I can put it in the back. It’s Jack, right?” He offered his hand. Jack leant forward to shake it.

“Yeah. Jack Bell.” Jack’s name wasn’t _really_ Bell. Bell was his mother’s name, and he wouldn’t be caught dead referring to himself as a Laurens. He lived with his mom in North Chuck for eight years before she died, and she was more of a parent than his father _ever_ was. Calling himself by her name came with a certain sense of pride that Laurens would never have.

And, being his father’s son was hardly something he wanted people to know about him, especially his roommates and close friends who undoubtedly hated his father. He was, after all, the South Carolina congressman known for his outspoken hatred towards blacks and queers. Which Lafayette and Herc both were.

The boy shook his hand, “Alex Hamilton. Good to meet you.”

They pressed themselves through the crowd, toward the door. The porch outside was full of people smoking and talking with their friends. Jack’s truck was parked out front.

“I know this great diner near by where I live,” Jack said, opening the car door for Martha as Alex lifted his bike into the back. “My friends ‘n me go there all the time. The lady who runs it loves us. Calls us ‘her boys’, she’s the best. It’s like 10 minutes away from here, in Manhattan.”

Alex shuffled back around and they all seated themselves, Martha at the window and Alex in the middle.

“You guys are in school, right?” He asked, once they were on the road.

“Yeah,” Martha combed out the mascara fibers from her eyelashes with her fingernails, “Painting majors.”

“Artists? That’s so cool.”

Jack smiled a little to himself and adjusted his grip on the wheel. “What about you?”

Alex’s eyes went wide, “Oh, I’m gonna be a journalist. I care a lot about politics ‘n shit. I’m real good at writing about them.” He nodded.

“You’re in college?” Martha drew her eyebrows together, “No offense, cat, but you look like you’re sixteen.”

Alex laughed, picking at his fingers. “I’m nineteen.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned his eyes towards the window. Martha shot Jack a look.

They pulled up at the diner a few moments later. It was late and the parking lot was practically empty, except for Lafayette, who was standing outside smoking.

Martha checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, before she flicked her hair over her shoulder and pused open the car door. Jack and Alex followed.

Lafayette raised his head and lifted the cigarette from his lips. He blew a stream of smoke into the air and leant against the diner wall, sliding his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Jack saw Martha smile at him prettily out of the corner of his eye. Lafayette took another pull and smiled back, before looking to Jack and asking in French, “ _Why did you bring a white girl here?_ ”

“ _Better for us to take a white girl here than for a white girl to take us somewhere_.” Alex interjected quickly. Lafayette gave him a critical once-over. Jack furrowed his eyebrows.

Lafayette opened the door for them and shrugged, “ _Fair enough_.”

Jack learned French when he went to boarding school in Geneva. He was fluent enough to have conversations back then, but lost most of it by the time he moved to New York. Living with Lafayette guaranteed Jack’s re-learning it.

He sat down at a booth and motioned for them to join. Jack slid in next to him, across from Martha and Alex.

He leant over to push open the window next to their booth. They were allowed to smoke inside, but Miss Jones didn’t like the way it smelled. Lafayette was way too nice to smoke anywhere there wasn’t a window for his smoke to billow outside of. If there wasn't, Miss Jones would be coughing and waving her hand in front of her face whenever she walked by.

Marie-Adrienne, one of the waitresses, stopped by their table. She was dark skinned and beautiful, with a well-kept Afro, signiture red lipstick, and sharp eyeliner. She had worked at the diner since Jack moved to New York, and had been friends with Lafayette since high school. She knew practically everything about him and didn't mind one bit. She was a good girl.

“You want something to drink, Jacky?” She asked, “Jacky’s friends?”

  
They all got cokes.

“So,” Lafayette began, drawled, turning to face Martha and Alex, “I’m Lafayette, Jacky’s dear friend. And you are?”  He cocked an well-groomed eyebrow.

Martha went first.  “Martha. Jack and I go to school together.”  

Lafayette knew about Martha. Jack talked about her often. To his friends, she was just the straight white girl from school with a silly crush. Lafayette turned to make a face at Jack. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m Alex,” Alex introduced, pushing up his glasses. “We met tonight.”

Lafayette fell back against the booth and lifted his chin. “Aren’t you a little young to be going to a college party?”

“I’m nineteen. I go to Columbia.” Alex clarified, eyebrows raised in frustration. He sighed, “I know, I look like a teenager.”

Lafayette clicked his tongue and took a drag, “ _Don’t I recognize you_?”

“Maybe.” Alex took a drink and adjusted his glasses, “ _Probably not_.”

“Hm.” Lafayette examined his face for a long moment, before breaking into his usual smile, “It’s good to meet someone who speaks fluently. Jacky has a horrid accent.”

Jack scoffed, “I learned in Switzerland, they speak it different there.”

Martha widened her eyes, “You’ve been to Switzerland?”

“Geneva,” Jack nodded, “I went to boarding school for Junior and Senior year.”

“I grew up speaking Creole.” Alex said, “Haitian Creole, it’s real similar to French. So, I taught myself European French. And English.”

“Impressive,” Lafayette took another drag, “My parents emigrated from Chavaniac during the occupation. You know, being colored and all.” He waved his hands around, “They moved to New York before I was born. I learned _Français_ at home and English at school.” He smeared the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray.

“I took Russian for three years,” Martha offered with a shrug. She laughed, “I don’t remember anything.”

“I’d’ve forgotten every word of French if it weren’t for Laf', here.” Jack situated his arm around Lafayette.

“You just need to find yourself a Russian friend.” Lafayette said.

Martha scoffed and dug her fingers into the top of her dress. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and flipped the lid before drawing one out with her teeth. “Got a light?”

Lafayette reached into his pocket and leant over the table, cupping her chin in one hand, and lighting her cigarette with the other. He sat back down and laid a hand over Jack’s neck.

She took it in her fingers, the smoke curling from her mouth elegantly. She flicked her eyes up to meet Jack’s, before looking back to Lafayette, “Thanks, cat.”

He grinned.

Marie returned and asked for their orders. They all got burgers and fries, except for Martha who just asked for a slice of apple pie. Lafayette winked at Marie and smiled unsavorily

He was queer as they came but he still flirted with every girl that looked his way. Most ate it right up, because of his accent and charm and stupidly good looks. Not Marie, though. According to Lafayette, they dated for a year in high school and she was completely in love with him. But, now she knew him well enough to see right through his allure.

“She’s real pretty,” Alex noted, after she left.

“Of course she is,” Lafayette said. “ _No offense, but, I didn’t get the impression that you’d notice_.”

“ _You’re saying you think I’m queer._ ”

“ _When Jacky brings boys to the diner, they’re always queer,_ ” Lafayette laughed, “ _And he brings a lot,_ ”

Jack cuffed him on the shoulder lightly.

“ _Don’t worry,_ ” Alex smiled around his straw, “ _I’m hardly an exception to that rule_.”

Lafayette grinned approvingly. Jack swallowed thickly.

Marie brought them their food and they ate while speaking in a mix of French and English, Martha only able to interject every once and awhile. She was still completely fetching, beautiful under the soft glow of the hanging lamp and funny despite her state of drunkenness. She’d make the perfect girlfriend, Jack thought, if only he could stomach the thought of being with a _girl_ again.

Jack had known he was queer since the fourth grade, when Frankie Kinloch moved in across the street from them. All the girls in his year thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He had this neat cut red-brown hair and these big green eyes, surrounded with dark eyelashes; a pair of lips like rosebuds and a smile like sunshine.

Jack was completely obsessed with him. He knew he wanted Frankie to be his friend. He wanted Frankie to be special to him and he wanted to be special to Frankie in return. He didn’t know why, though, and spent plenty of nights lying awake wondering. Finally, after watching _China Doll_ with his sister and seeing Victor Mature kiss Li-Li Hua, he realized he wanted he and Frankie to take their places.

Jack figured that there had to be something wrong with him. Boys loved girls and girls loved boys, and God made it that way for a reason. Jack decided that when God made him, he must have mixed up the _ingredients_ between he and some girl. So, they were the only two queers in the world. God’s mistakes. He promised himself he’d find her, and switch their ingredients around so they were normal. Then, he’d marry her.

It didn’t quite work out that way.

They all finished their food and bid Lafayette farewell, who waved goodbye with a wiggle of his fingers before lighting another cigarette.

“Where d'you live, man?” Jack asked Alex, as they walked out into the parking lot.

“It’s alright. I’ll just bike home. No problem.” Alex smiled and stopped in front of Jack's truck.

“Shut up,” Jack opened the door, “I’m takin’ Martha back to her dorm, you live near Campus?”

Alex sighed and rolled his eyes, “Harlem.”

“Oh, that’s super close. Get in, man.”

He did.

When they arrived, Martha tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned over Alex to kiss Jack on the cheek. She smiled and then opened the door, leaving with a click of high heels against pavement.  She disappeared into her dorm room and Jack continued down the street.

The nighttime was thick with humidity, breeze gentle through the cracked windows. Alex cradled the cross around his neck between his thumb and forefinger, moonlight caught in his glasses. Jack looked at him secretly at each red light.

Jack asked for Alex’s address. Alex scratched at the back of his head and told him.

Harlem reminded Jack of North Chuck. Something about it was familiar, like going back home. Not aesthetically, but the air about it. It was easy, effortless. No haughty white people with their noses forever tilted toward the sky to try and impress. Just people like him, just living.

Jack lived in Manhattan, because he could afford it thanks to his father’s money. Despite their disagreements, Henry Laurens still sent his son a good sum of money monthly so he wouldn't stir up anymore trouble.

“This is it.” Alex announced. Giant apartment complexes lined the streets, stretching towards the sky, dotted with windows.

He looked to Jack, eyes endlessly black, lips agape and shadows drawn around his face. He pushed his glasses up, collecting his locs behind them and resting them atop his head.

Jack blinked heavily, eyes flitting to Alex’s lips for a moment, bottom lip secured between his teeth. He let his mouth fall open and leant forward smoothly.

Alex met him halfway, one hand poised on Jack’s neck, the other on his shoulder. Jack breathed deeply through his nose, pressed to Alex’s cheek. They were crowded against each other, as close as they could get from opposite sides of the steering wheel. They tilted their heads and their lips aligned like puzzle pieces. Alex curled his fingers into Jack’s t-shirt sleeve. Jack rested a hand on Alex’s knee, the other along the top of the seats.

Alex pulled away a few seconds later, “I gotta go...class tomorrow, you know.” He leant forward and kissed Jack quickly once more, before sliding his glasses back down and scooting over to open the car door. He looked over his shoulder, “See you around, maybe.” He stepped out. Jack watched him, fingers against his lips, as he collected his bike from the back and made his way towards the door.

Jack pulled out of his spot in a daze.


End file.
